OK, until now this was not our way to perform such a touristic
kind
of vacation. You enter a tourist office, - what's available, please? -
yeah, let's fill out a certain form, make an insurance for cancelling
the
journey, pay some money in advance and all at once we have a holiday at
Mallorca in our pockets, hotel, demipension and flight inclusive. And
if you compare the cost to an offer at a German site - e.g. the isle of
Sylt - you realize, that Mallorca is much cheaper.

But what's about the image of a Mallorca-vacation? They call
Mallorca
the "Isle of the charwomen" (Putzfraueninsel), and
everyone tells
you, that he was there already. 7 millions of tourists per year swarm
over
this island, where they overbuild the countryside, where one lazes
around
at the pool and sips his drink, where they dance through the nights in
the discoes...are we right there? But everyone, who was there ensures,
that there is a nice landscape and an alternative kind of holidays
possible.
OK, let aus enjoy the mediterranian climate, the flowers and the sun.

We can start at good friday, the flight is at 5 am, so we have
to rise
at 2 am in the night. As we ride towards Hannover by car we meet an
endless
chain of lights in the opposite direction. In the broadcast they speak
of 50 km traffic jam towards Berlin. Where do all these folks want to
go
to at dead of night? But we can reach the airport without trouble and
deposit
the car for the next 14 days at the tourist-parking-site. Outside it is
rather cold so we wear warm clothes suited for winter temperatures. We
put our luggage on a carriage and cross over to the main building of
the
airport. This is very sleepy yet, someone is yawning behind a
broomstick,
another tries to build up a pyramide of drinking glasses but soon has
to
attempt to handbrush and shovel.

Will we meet lots of friends, neighbours and known people
during this
journey? I can say in advane: no. With one exception, for there is a
twin
pair of clerks employed at one of the bike shops at Braunschweig. They
have two well painted pussies on their coat-tails looking forward to
eventful
easter activities on the island of their dreams. We start to check in
and
try to perform this in a gentle and professional fashion.

So let us discuss the identifier-labels at our suitcase. These
have
come from our travel bureau named Berg and Dörr.
The organizer
of the journey is Sun World Tour. The broker is Bucher
Reisen,
Düsseldorf. But the labels are printed for LTU-Reisen.
On the other hand the airline we fly with is Hapag Lloyd.
Don't
care about, we check in without problems and pass the security control,
where they roentgenize clothes and handbags. Fortunately none of the
passengers
wears a Kalaschnikoff or a handgrenade under his coat. Until the flight
can start we have to wait in the security area and watch a gentleman
yawning
hard. He would have needed both of his hands to cover his mouth, in
consequence
he uses none.

Finally we can enter the plane and sit just one row behind the
bike-twins
and their pussies. The boys have cotton plugs in their ears and insist
to sit side by side, framed by the girls. The plane takes off towards
Braunschweig,
where we just have been some hours before. Some time later near of
Frankfurt
the final height of about 10.000 m and speed of 800 km/h is reached.
The
breakfast is served and some entertainment is presented by video.
Especially
a certain Mr. Bean is amusing by doing gymnastics
at a 3m spring
board characterized by his acrophobia, finally ending in an unskilled
fall.
Heidi usually suffers with acrophobia too, but not today at her place
at
the porthole-like window for it is dark yet.

As it gets bright we are above the Mediterranean Sea already.
In Palma
it is a little bit foggy, so the captain informs. We pass a jagged rock
cliff and to the left watch the island of Menorca.
Then the approach
for landing begins and we come down with a little crash. Some people
clap
their hands, may be these are the cowards (Angsthasen). At the next day
we can read in the newspapers, that the airport of Palma was closed at
tis time caused by the fog. So I still ask how we have managed to touch
down then...

After the baggage has come by the assembly line we look for
the information
desk of Sun World Tours and get the information to
enter the bus
no. 244 heading for Paguera. We just have sit down
in the bus when
we are called again. May be we are the millionth guest and get a gift
for
this? But no, it is because the wrong labels on our baggage: we shall
change
to another bus. So we have to prove by the bill that we have purchased
at Sun World Tours and are legal passengers.
Finally the faces of
the other passengers turn away from us and we can sit down again.

The bus rides at the highway to Palma. So the first impression
of this
island is not so picturesque. Industrial sites, building sites,
slumlike
residental zones and a lousy traffic everywhere. At Palma
Nova the
first guests leave at various hotel-arrangements. Sometimes we think
that
we do not want to be buried there. Now the bike-twins have reached
their
destination and easily carry their travellingbags, while the pussies
grown
upstairs under their heavy suitcases. I am sorry, but from now on we
cannot
tell more details of this romance.

At Santa Ponsa many guests leave while we
see places like Aqua
Paradise or Marine Land with large
parking areas around. Finally
the last town is Paguera, located at a large bay surrounded by hotels
everywhere.
One of these is our destination: Hotel Paguera and
we are suspended
at this place.

Clothed by our winter-suits we climb up the stairs to the
entrance.
There is much turbulence at the entrance hall, lots of baggage of in-
and
outgoing guests stand around. People wearing swim suits, bermuda shorts
or otherwise barely suited head outside towards the beach or the
swimming-pool.
This is a turquoise shining somewhat at the courtyard of the hotel. In
our winter suits we now do not feel like professional globetrotters. In
the future we will be amused by warm suited newcomers as well.

We have 9 o' clock meanwhile and we have arrived at Mallorca,
while
the can of coffee still stands on the breakfast table at home (let us
hope
Annika will clean the table). We cannot enter our room for it's too
early.
So we start for a first investigation walk, of course we change to a
summer-outfit
before. Hotel Paguera is located at the upper part of Paguera at a
silent
area and vis a vis to the adjacent nature. Down at the main street you
nearly get crazy by the dense traffic roaring right through the city. A
bypass is just now under construction. In spite of the celebration day
(good friday) the garbage collectors and clean services are at work.

Beneath the main street we find the beach and success in
listening to
the rushing of the waves. We sit among the bathing people on a wall and
admire the turquoise-coloured sea, the waters are clear like glass.
Above
the bay at the left we see the dense buildings of Santa Ponsa. To the
right
the bay ends with the Cap Andritxoll which is in
it's virgin state
without building sites. Now we do not feel bad dozing in the sun.

Finally we feel hungry and enter a small street-restaurant for
a pot
of herring (Heringstopf). When we have 12 o' clock we return to the
hotel,
enter our room and get suitably dressed. Soon we start the next
observation
walk. At the hotel Mar y Pins we climb up a
staircase and find ourselves
in a strange looking housing area. After we have seen so many nasty
hotel
buildings until now this is an astonishing diversity, wrinkled houses
with
balconies and terraces all placed at the cliff line high above the
waters
with beautiful views to the shining sea. Finally we find out the secret
of this project: it is named Cala Fornells and
built during the
early 70s by a Russian architect named Pedro Otzup.
(In the late
90s the same architect will build a house for the German model Claudia
Schiffer at Camp del Mar). Later we will
see some similar settlements,
where they have tried to reproduce this style (Esmeralda,
Santa Ponsa,
Porto Andraitx). It is possible to inspect prototype homes or
just
to buy an appartment. Fortunately the bureau is closed today, otherwise
we have been lead into temptation after these few hours at this island.

Thereafter we return to the hotel and assemble ourselves at
the pool
enjoying the sun in the afternoon. And this is the stereotyped idea: to
lie at the pool and get the drinks from the tablet of the waiter. We
call
the smart looking steward "El Ballancero", for he
likes to let his
tablet rotate around a single finger. But the main cause for this place
is, that there is some shelter from the wind in opposite to the beach,
which looks not so clean and there you are accompanied by dog and cat.
And what a nice contrast after this nasty cold morning at home...

The first dinner-buffet is impressive, but it is usual, that
the impression
decreases with ongoing time. You can have salads, some warm dishes,
often
a fish-meal, and finally, the best: a dessert of fruit-salad or
icecream.
After dinner you should go out for a while to relieve your belly. But
be
aware that darkness comes at 8.30 pm and faster than we are used to.

The morning comes with dust and a certain noise. We find out
that on
the palm tree at our balcony there is the night-quarter of a crowd of
sparrows.
And they use to to host a conference there in the evening as well as in
the early morning. From the sound intensity you can imagine, that
highly
important things are discussed there... But in the morning we are too
sleepy
to join this discussion. And we don't speak the Spain language... To
get
awake you better go to the pool or swimming hall.

The breakfast is not so fine, you have to brew the teabags
yourselves.
The coffee is undrinkable but the Cappuccino is fine. A
three-minutes-boiled
egg pours down from the spoon, better stay to a "five-minutes-boiled"
egg.
Sometimes you get fried or scrambled eggs with bacon. And
there is
a delicious cake, which is well suited to be packed in some serviettes
and to vanish in the suitcase. The day is long...

For there is no sun we go downtown and look for the
shopwindows among
the roaring traffic. And we hear a nice dialogue between two elder
ladies.
The one: "I suppose it's rather expensive here".
The other: "But
if you calculate the exchange rate it is cheap". We would
like to hear
more of this...

What to do now, the few streets of Paguera are soon observed.
There
is a remarkable sentence to be read in a certain paper:

"The wrinkled streets of Paguera remind to the
Arabian part of the
old town quarter of Jerusalem"

We think there is someone wrong... At a bus stop we chat to a
tourist-couple
and they tell us from the neighbour-town named Andraitx.
Just at
this moment a busarrives heading for Andraitx so 15 minutes
later
we leave this bus at Andraitx. This town is located at a fertile plane
where they cultivate almonds (Mandel), olives, figs, carobs
(Johannisbrot),
orange- and lemmon-trees, just as everywhere at Mallorca. The town
looks
ancient, there are no hotel-buildings which spoil the scene. It's
curious
that the shutters (Fensterläden) are closed, may be they try to keep
off the heat from their rooms. We go up to the church, the door is
closed,
but we have a nice view towards the sea with Porto Andraitx.
After
some scenic lanes we find the pedestrian path to Porto.

This path meanders through the orchards and small estates. You
can study
the spanish way of life on this route. Now you will watch the typical
dry
stone walls which have their origin in the period of the arabian
occupation
earlier than year 1000. These walls were built to generate plane
terraces
at the slopes and to prevent soil erosion. The trees are full of
oranges
and lemmons, so you can buy these fruits very cheap at the shops. And
it
is a much better quality than the imported stuff at home. We find a
broken
stick of a lemmon tree at the ground, so we have the occasion to fill
some
pockets. One fruit as probe - very very sour.

The greater estates are named Finca. Many
Germans have bought
such home, besides the money you need much time, be a self-employed
people
like an artist or writer or be a retired person. We fulfil none of
these
requirements. "If you live here you have to clean the windows as well
as
at home" I say to my wife.

Thinking about all this we have missed the right continuation
of the
path and all at once hit to the main street. So we have to walk for
half
an hour with the traffic. Once I cross the street with danger of life
to
get a photo of an old rotted well. As we reach Porto we watch the sky
which
is blue and the bus stop, where a bus soon takes us back.

During the afternoon you will find us at the pool. There are
many observations
to be made. We have a funny start: some meters away there lies a
sweating
gentleman on his back. As he once rises to sit upright, a plastic bag
sticks
to his wet backside and he doesn't notice this matter. But Heidi does
and
she has to use a towel to suppress her unsecret laughter. Some time
later
the gentleman remarks the thing at his back, puts it away and looks at
us with suspicion. Some places apart there is a round looking man and
we
name him the spheric Spainiard. He is very skilled
to roll over
on his couch if he wants to change front and backside. As he gets
asleep
the sound of snoring and other human tones come up. Heidi suffers from
her laughter and we will see later: this will have consequences one
day.

After some time I get asleep myself and thereafter have a
pretty red
skin. Heidi uses her sunlotion and prefers to tan. Let us continue some
observations. A lady looks like a known person at home and we name her
Mrs.
H. She has a husband with her, who is somewhat oddish but en
vogue
regarding the swim-fashion. His swim suit is let us say backless
for the rear part of it consists in a thread or something like that. At
dinner this couple sits two tables from us and they greet to us - no
only
she, he is too oddish. But he is very busy with his salad. He fills one
spoon with oil or dressing, sticks some kind of green stuff on his fork
and than simultaneously leads spoon and fork to his mouth. We have a
new
name: the two armed shovel.

Pleas excuse me to tell about other persons in such way. But
believe
me, it is worth to be told and part of the experience. May be someone
else
has observed our behaviour himself and called us the two
lighthouses?
So let us introduce some more funny people. At first let us discuss the
Pill-Granny,
who is nearly unable to carry all her medicine when she arrives for
dinner.
On the other hand no one is sure to be contacted by her and soon must
be
willing to hear the whole story of her life... Sometimes we catch a
fragment
of this stuff: she has worn out two husbands who peacefully lie under
the
earth...

The tourists are attended by young ladies recognizable by
their dispatch
cases, neckerchiefs or brooches. So my wife gives the command to clear
the situation concerning the identifier labels for the suitcases. "Are
you concerned with Sun World Tours?" I
once ask one of these
tourist-angels. "No I am from Neckermann" is the
answer and so I
can rush back to my wife. From now on I content myself with watching
the
ladies from a secure distance, when other guests clear their
reclamations.
In a local newspaper we find a collection of curious reclamations. So
it
once happened, that a man confused after some drinks did not enter his
room with his wife but another room with another wife. And the other
wife
did not realize the mistake in time - so a reclamation was stringent.

But we have no reclamation. Only a proposal: if every guest
would be
signed by an identifier label of his travel organisation everything
would
be easier to handle (Nowadays the guest gets a
day-and-night-wristband
if he is member of a club-vacancy "all inclusive" arrangement...).

Until now we have not seen our table companions (commensals)
at breakfast.
But they mus exist, because we always find some grains at the table.
And
we - sorry again - have the name: corn-biters.

This day we head towards Santa Ponsa passing institutions like
Beverley
Playa or Hapimag. Hapimag is a concern
where one can buy stocks
for the demand to use certain apartments worldwide.

We have a nice view to the bay of Paguera and Cala Fornells.
The crisscrossing
path winds it's way through the brushwood and finally ends. We pass a
tennis-court
where some folks volontarily turn to sweat. Back in the town we admire
the
shopping-donkey, who is loaded with souvernir-stuff
but stands
without any motion. May be he is stuffed? But once he bends one of his
rear hoofs in an elegant manner on the kerb stone - so he must be of
real
life. I resist to take a photo for the owner of the donkey looks so
moneygrubbing.

In a side road there is a small atelier of a painter who looks
somewhat
miserable, but perhaps this must be to believe him to be an artist. The
paintings of landscapes look somewhat opulent, the portraits of persons
may be more realistic.

At the shore some other dark individuals carry on their
business. One
offers wrist-watches, discretely wrapped in paper. "Smuggling watch,
Rolex,
very good occasion"... Others dispose invitations for various
shopping-events.
Some seem to be quite interesting and the excursions are much cheaper
than
those offered by professional agencies. Let us refer later on this
fact.
Another attraction would be a trip with a glass-bottom-boat. For this
day
we return to the pool.

Today we observe an older man, who looks like a famous German
comedian
in one of his best characters as an old growing hunterman. So his name
will be Loriot. He suffles with his old slippers to
his couch, moves
it over right into the sun and finally he himself finds the right
position
with rised legs and head. A last a wave to Mum up
above at the balcony
and now there is the world behind... Some time later Mum comes down
from
her balcony and settles besides her husband. But our Loriot
awakes,
gets his stuff and hurries to another couch far away from his Mum. We
can
speculate for a while again.

In the evening at the dinner table we finally meet our
table-friends,
a couple from Bremen. But they are not talkative and look with disgust
while we dimantle our codfish. Hastily they drink their water and soon
hurry away. "What was this?" Heidi asks, but I don't know myself (Later
they were normal like usual persons). After dinner I walk alone to
inspect
the bushes behind the hotel. You are immediately in the wilderness,
climbing
small uphill paths. I see a nice mountain nearby, may be one can find a
way up there. But not today, I reach the valley where the bypass road
will
lead through and then I must return before it gets dark.

In the bar of the hotel tonight they will present a Travestie
Cabaret.
We think that is not our taste. Most of the guests like those parties
very
much like Bingo- or Dancing-Evenings. The organizer of these events is
named Paco. Similar parties are held downtown. At a
disco-bar named
Club
Hawai you get a chain of paper flowers round your neck. The
more courageous
people can disguise as a bull and fight against another courageous
torero.
But both must be on roller skates...
So to be seen from the photographs, for we never get a foot int one
of those etablissements. Other restaurants offer the german soccer
games
by television. And then you can hear the shouting at Mallorca when
there
is a goal in their home country far away...

Perhaps one of those shopping-excursions today? You only have
to stay
to the entrance of the hotel and soon someone will pick you up. We meet
another couple who have purchased a tour already. Fine, we simply join
the party - and it works. You can read in the papers, that the business
community of Mallorca is not amused of these activities for there are
drawn
too many people from the shops and restaurants.

We are introduced by a lady named Erika
from Rosenheim,
Germany, and she speaks with a Bavarian accent. She gives a lot of
hints
and informations concerning the sightseeings along the route. One of
the
most famous stories is that of the Aragonian king Jaime I. who
conquered
Mallorca from the Moors obsession in the year 1229. Relaxing of his
heavy
work after an opulent meal he is told to have said: "I have
dined superb"
which is "Bendinat" in his language. Since then the
name of the
castle where all this happened is "Bendinat". And
remember this
Jaime
Premero who often gives his name to hotels, estates,
golfsites etc.

We pass the central agricultural planes of the island. To the
left you
see the mountains of the Sierra de Tramontana. We
pass towns named
Santa
Maria del Calmi, Binisalem or Inca.
Near Sa Puebla
the net of the spider is spanned. We enter a finca which is an
advertise
center. We come into a room with cake and sangria on the tables and at
the backwall you see -- mattress, pillows, bedding stuff. That's it.

And there is a smart solo-entertainer already, named Dieter
and
he came from Bielefeld about 7 years ago. He does
not tell us, if he was
busy with his bedding stuff all the time. At the very beginning one of
the beds breaks down for a plank was not fixed correctly. The "bedding-Dieter"
then puts a piece of ice under a feather-bed (but there are no feathers
in there). The interest of the people meanwhile has turned to the cake
and sangria.

So Dieter starts his recitation against all kind of
feather-beds in
support of the beddings filled by the wool of sheep. Rheumatism, pain,
allergies, heat and sweat... all this is caused by the feather
material.
"But "- and the sun rises in Dieter's somewhat washed out face - "with
these
breathing wools of the lambs you get rid of all your trouble". Fine and
some people look at their watch. This was a mistake for Dieter harshly
shouts at them like a teacher at school. But the people don't care and
leave the room. "This is too much private" they say. So let us end with
this episode as Dieter gets the piece of ice back from the bed. The
isolation
of the bed has kept the piece of ice intact. No one dares to ask: "And
what's about ice-cold feet under that stuff?"

After that a tombola is held while Dieter and some assistants
try to
find someone who buys something. From their physiognomy you can read
that
there was not such great success.

Finally we all sit in the bus again and await the coming
sensations.
At first we learn, that the chapel nearby was used for the wedding of
the
famous singer Peter Maffay. Tourists like such
stories. We now ride
to Bunyola, a dreamy town at the feet of the Sierra
de Tramontana.
We
can walk around for a while and then enter the famous nostalgic train
from
Palma to Soller. The most spectacular part is that from here to Soller,
if you are not just inside a tunnel.

When the last tunnel is passed the train stops to give the
passengers
a photo opportunity. Down in the "golden valley" you see the town of Soller.
Before this railway was built this area was only to be reached by ship
or over a difficult pass in the mountains. We change to the bus again
and
this climbs up over exciting hairpins to the high shore. Groves of
olive
trees and the dry-stone-walls mentioned before accompany the route. In
the depth there lies the blue sea - what shall it do otherwise? Down at
the slope we observe a villa and the owner of this and a mallorquian
wife
is Michael Douglas.

The next village is Deya. This is the home
of many artists, they
say even Picasso has strolled around at this place.
For there is
no parking-place the bus cannot stop and the discussion turns to the
television
series "Hotel Paradies". Deya was one of the film
locations. But
they have not produced the film at just this single place. At one place
they made the outer shoots of the hotel, the inner views at another.
Here
is the beach and there are the mountains (on the other side of the
island).
By this mosaic the virtual world of our dreams is built. And with the
income
of this romance the producers can afford such a way of life as it is
shown
by the movies. Or let us say: those people are the actors of their
films
themselves.

Now we find a parking place and stop at the estate Son
Marroig
of the duke Ludwig Salvator. Moreover the famous
empress Sissy
from Austria (known by Romy Schneider) has visited
this place. Down
at the sea there is a rock with a hole in it, and such phenomenon is
called
Foradada.
They say, if you enter the hole at one end as a man you leave it at the
other end as a woman. But we have not the time to make an experiment on
this matter...

We go back without a further stop and pass Valdemossa
with it's
famous monastery. At this place the poet George Sand and
the composer
Frederic
Chopin in the year 1838 spent some lousy cold months in the
winter.
This all is to be read in the poem "Winter in Mallorca" by George Sand.
But the inhabitants better don't read this and tell the tourists, that
this place was a shangrila of love and peace.

The rest of the time is used by our leader Erika to sell a
certain oil
as a medicine against every kind of infirmity. The driver of the bus
sells
videos with the beauties of Mallorca. And finally we are invited to the
next or another tour, may be there are no beddings then...

Today there is no need to run for new adventures - let us
relax for
a while. For the weather is not so good today we go shopping and sit at
the pool until we get chilly. So let us take a hot bath, take a nap and
read a book.

Meanwhile you can dream of a potential confusion of some room
numbers
- of course my wife doesn't want to hear anything about this matter.
For
one day two proper blonds come out of room 232. Our room-number is 223.
"Easy to confuse with the numbers" I say to Heidi, who is not amused.
In
the future the blonds have our sympathy, as we observe how they try to
sozialize to somebody, but much to their and our regret the great love
story does not occur.

6. Day, Wednesday

Now we can start the next undertaking, we want to go to Palma.
This
is no problem with bus No. 4, these go one after the other. In 45
minutes
you are at Palma. It's a traffic there like in a big metropolis. During
the season the traffic density at Palma shall surpass that of Madrid,
the
capital of Spain. When we leave the bus we just get a gratis city map
at
an information kiosk, which is necessary to orientate in the wrinkled
streets
of the city. We think, this is the only picturesque part of Palma,
because
the outer quarters consist of hotels and mostly ugly apartment
buildings.
But the old town looks romantic, the houses have not been changed since
ancient times. In the lanes there a re small shops, one is especially
spectacular:
it's full of bacons and sausages. Soon we reach the Pl. Major
where
different kinds of alternative individuals offer handicraft articles.

The next destination - of course - is the cathedral, mandatory
for every
visitor of Mallorca. Beneath the cathedral at the ruins of the
fortification
there is a little park. As we pass it we are astonished by a strange
tumult
ahead. It is due to those certain pink-girls
(Nelkenmädchen),
from whom we have heard already. In most cases those are nice looking
gipsy-girls
who try to spend pinks to the unsuspicious tourist and then ask for a
coin
or two. And when you now pull out your purse those folks soon get known
to it's content better than you yourself. You will realize this fact at
a
later inspection. In our case the affected tourist seem to be informed
about the matter and there is a short struggle, as one of the gipsy
women
tries to get back the pink after no purse is coming up. And as those
neither
nice-looking nor well built women are aware of us they have a
new
victim and hurry with their swinging pinks towards us. But we decline
and
look away and this works. So we have made this experince too and I am
proud
to tell about it. Let us wait for another expectation some time later.

But now we have reached the cathedral and purchase the
entrance fee.
And there is just a guidance which is not public but has a good
resonance
anyhow. So we join this guidance as well. As the guide tells some
declarations
about the later dinner of the group and continuation of their tour we
nod
with our heads as the others do. The guide is a nice Spanish girl and
she
speaks a funny German (I cannot translate the funny part): "Dies
ist
heiliges Josef, hier liegt letztes Gegenpapst, hatte schlechtes
Charakter,
hat man Hut für Seele aufgehängt" ("This is holy Josef, here
last antipope is buried, had a bad character, they have hung up a hat
for
his soul"). And in fact a faded hat jiggles above the
sarcophagus.
Then there are two huge candlesticks made of silver. "Rich
visitors
as Aga Khan or Onassis always want to buy" the guide tells.
Nearby
behind a plane of glass you see a proper human bone, which may be
extracted
from a saint and they name it a relic (Reliquie)
after that. Then
there is a Vera Cruz (a real Cross) in the shape of
a splint of
wood which stems from the Cross of Golgatha. This is difficult to
prove,
for they worldwide can fill 40 waggon trails with "Vera Cruz"-splints,
as we have heard.

The main hall of the cathedral has a remarkable architecture.
The main
nave is higher than that of the cathedral at Cologne, the bearing
columns
thinner in spite of that. So the room seems somewhat gracious and the
eye
has space to have a look around without steadily kicking against a
column.
The windows are colourful, at the front side there is a huge rosette,
which
gives special light-effects to certain points of time in the year or
day.
Finaly the guide realizes: "The group gets larger and larger
all the time".
So we better leave and look for ourselves.

Out of the cathedral again we stroll along at D'Antoni
Maura
and Passeig des Born. These avenues are
representative, elegant
and are bordered by pretty palmtrees. I insist to tell this regarding
to
the "second experience" some minutes later. First let pass by a couple
of police vehicles, a couple of attendance-cars and finally a couple of
bike-racing-teams. Some of the riders hang at their cars and are pulled
along. What kind of sport is that?

We turn to a narrow side road towards the Old Town and start
to climb
up some stairs. As we just are between the narrow walls a strange man
comes
up and manipulates something inside the frame of a window. After he
has disappeaered I peer into the window frame and can observe some
pieces
of glass. Heidi energetically whispers at me "Stop that, come along".
And
suddenly there sits a couple on the floor in front of us ready to
inject
a shoot. As I look forward again, Heidi is 50 m ahead meanwhile, may be
her speed has involuntarily increased. I hop along "We never saw a
thing
like that" I say, but Heidi is more excited and argues about some
violence we could have risked in there. But now we are at a shopping
lane
again, only some steps apart...

We enter a cafe until the departure of the bus, but this comes
30 minutes
later than announced. May be this is caused by the bike-race. As we are
back in Paguera, the bikers have arrived too and we can watch them
jumping
into the bend at the fork to Calvia. The last of
the riders get
the loudest applause for they have more time to enjoy it in contrary to
the hastening "tete" of the "peloton".

In the evening we get an unexpected invitation. The couple
that has
shared the shopping-excursion on Monday with us has a celebration day:
Silver Wedding. So we sit at the bar behind a champaigne-tub and argue
about the fact, if in our case only 20 wedding years are the
justification
for a Mallorca-journey as well.

The result of the last evening is that we want to attend
another shopping-excursion.
This time there is a tour to the north of the island. From the
beginning
we learn good news of Palma. Of course the story "Bendinat..."
again,
we know, we know. And then we roll along and end - guess - at the finca
of Sa Puebla. And who is waiting for his customers - guess - Bedding-Dieter.
We are not so glad about this. So we assemble at a table, the silver
married
couple, a younger couple and we two. The younger couple is somewhat
foolish,
but we all like to laugh about the situation. Even Dieter assures to
supply
a funny presentation.

And he tells the story of the plastic-bag again. And this is
the following:
you shall take a plastic-bag and put some feathers of your bedding into
it, close the bag and hang this stuff outside. And four days later open
the bag and inspect the content. "And what will you find then? A black
soup! And what is this?" Dieter is in top form, but we know already:
inside
the bag there are the excrements of the feather mite. But the foolish
fellow
at our table whispers: "May be there was a fart inside". You can
imagine
what happens? The female members at our table burst out in
uncontrolable
laughter. I pour some more sangria into my glass, the other fellows
chuckle.

And now Dieter: "If this is too ridiculous for you I beg you
to go out,
yes you at the table over there. You made trouble the last time as
well,
I beg you again, go out!" The people mutter and look at us as we stand
up and go to the door, leaving behind the full glasses of sangria. As
we
come outside someone asks "Don'you feel well?" "No, it is like at
school"
and we declare that we are fired. We laugh but feel somewhat displaced
as well.

Of course outside in the sun it is beautiful. And we can now
visit without
haste the "wedding-chapel" Son Cladera. There are
the usual somewhat
kitschy images of various saints and a lot of flowers. In spite of our
misconduct we get our lunch. Moreover we observe some business-persons
at another table, as they dispute some important transactions, and a
woman
who has to record everything. Finally we have to wait until the end of
the tombola, which takes place without us. We try to behave as modest
as
possible and to avoid another meeting with Dieter. At last we sit in
the
bus again and await the entertaining part of the day.

We come to Puerto Pollensa. At a slope
they have built a ghetto
for prominents as there are (this is an extract of German TV-culture):
Frank
Elsner (Wetten dass..), Horst Tappert (Derrick), Heinz Rühmann
(Bruchpilot),
Peter Maffay (7 schwere Jahre...), J. Mario Simmel (Es muss nicht immer
Kaviar sein), Rudi Carell (Am laufenden Band) and as to
symbolize the
VIP-Horror the author of Hotel Paradies, Traumschiff and
alike
(mostly with actors like Sascha Hehn and
Uschi Glas): Herbert
Reinecker (Filmproducer). At the north of the slope there is
the estate
of the actor Johanna von Koscian (Ein bißchen Haushalt...).

With devotion everyone looks out of the bus to those houses
looking
quite normal. And none of those very important animals
is to be
seen. We come to the port and enter a boat. This brings us to the north
of the bay of Pollenca to the famous Hotel Formentor.
We pass another
two spectacular estates, one is owned by a plastic-surgeon and the
other
by the Grimaldi family. The hotel Formentor was the accomodation of
other
famous people like
Chaplin,
Churchill or nowadays Helmut
Kohl "to eat his fill after his diet" as they say. Of course
you cannot
get near to the hotel, everything is fenced. The beach was used as the
scenery for several movies for the water is so blue. We have a coffee
at
a snack bar and enter the bus again.

Now we have an adventourous climb over steep hairpins. Heidi
and I change
the seats so I can look down to the abysses when the bus enters the
edge
of the road to give space to oncoming traffic. At the summit there is a
parking place and we have another photo opportunity. A path leads up to
a more higher spot, and there you have a breathtaking view
200 m
straight down to the sea. In front of this there is a wall high as the
hip and people like to sit there and make photographs. "Do not sit too
much behind" they say to the children. I get goosebumps there myself
and
go down again. Heidi has studied the botanic meanwhile and with the
nails
of her fingers has scratched some dry moss out of the stones and
secretly
put it into a plastic bag (for the mediterranean terrarium at home).
Back
in the bus we even observe some mountain goats.

We ride back to Allcudia. This part of
Mallorca is preferred
during summer by younger water sport enthusiasts. In the moment it is
too
early yet and so every place is deserted. Our guide - this time a lady
from Mainz - informs all the time, and this in a
very well mode,
so this time we buy a flask of this every-purpose-medicine from her.

With the silver married couple we have arranged to make a
hike-tour
from Paguera to Porto Andraitx
via Camp del Mar. The
description of the path is written in the Hapimag guide for hike-tours.
So it's to me to take the booklet in my hand and walk in front of the
gang.
We start as pretended at the super-market
Casa Pepe at the outskirts
of Paguera. 10 minutes later we are lost already. If you read "Turn
left"
or "Walk up sloping" you can be sure to take the wrong solution from a
multiple choice arrangement.

We find ourselves at a former waste deposit. So we climb up a
slope
just across the forest and reach a summit, where a nice vegetation
grows.
We have a nice view to the sea as well but we are everywhere except on
the path to Camp del Mar. Another couple strolls around, the woman has
already stopped the verbal communication with her partner. Finally
beneath
the old watchtower of Cap Andritxcoll we hit the right path. This in
turn
ends in front of a insurmountable embankment of a new built
"urbanisation
road", as they call the potential veins of a future settlement. Because
this insurmountable obstruction is mentioned in our booklet we know: we
are right. It is possible to circumvent the obstacle on the right side.

We walk to the beach of Camp del Mar. This is a very calm and
silent
place in spite to the hecticness of Paguera. There are two bigger
hotels,
one is closed yet. At a small island there is a restaurant, you can
reach
it by a path of wooden planks. But the planks are missing in the
moment,
so we conclude that the restaurant is closed as well. We climb up
another
slope. From above you have the view as to be seen at many postcards of
Mallorca. From the nice houses at the shore they can enjoy this view
and
out of their vine-cellar some stairs lead down to the sea. At the Cala
en Cranc Villa we enter a forest path and soon reach the
summit.

Now we turn inland and walk along the dry-stone-walls through
groves
of almonds and olives. Soon you see Andraitx at the right. At a big
wall
there is a portal suited to shoot a photo of the nice landscape behind.
The silver merried couple increases the beauty by adding their own
conterfei
to the photograph. We then reach the port. There are even real fishing
boats. The promenade at the shore is not very inviting for they build a
new pavement with jackhammers and raising dust. We have a cappuccino
and
then the bus is waiting for us.

What we did for the rest of the day I cannot remember, perhaps
the reader
will figure it out.

The morning starts with sun so Heidi allocates some towels at
the pool
couches before breakfast to effectuate a reservation of the best places
(This seems to be a common naughty practice of all tourists in sunny
countries).
Because I am still burnt by the sun I prefer to do something else than
to be roasted all the day. It is time for the "peak of challenge",
which
is the harmless looking hill above Paguera. It's name is Moleta
de Son
Vic and the height is 350 m. Some distance away but too far
to be reached
on foot there is the "Matterhorn" of Mallorca named Galatzo
and about 1000 m heigh. I have inspected parts of the climb
up to
the Paguera hill some days before, and today I soon reach the
construction
site, where they drill a tunnel under the massif for the bypass road.

From this place a wide path leads up the slope. But as usual
this path
soon ends apruptly at the tree line (the tree line is not due to the
lowering
temperatures as in the mountains but to the dry limestone up there). So
this path perhaps may be built only for the transport of wood. There is
no continuation, some uncertain trails lead to different directions. As
long as the terrain is straightforward, there is no problem to climb up
just towards the summit. One must be careful not to slip at the loose
gravel
for it is desasterous to get hurt if you walk alone far away from any
help.
And there is another wisdom of the mountaineers: "If you get up, don't
be sure you are able to get down the same way".

So I am somewhat anxious, for the terrain gets impassable more
and more.
Sometimes one has to climb using hands and feet and to throw a view to
the back to be sure to find the right trail afterwards. The vertical
rocks
meanwhile loom large up to 20 m height and that is too high to slip
down
on the bottom of your pants. While a yellow butterfly, may be it's a
swallow
tail sits down on one of my foot I cannot turn or move to observe him
thoroughly.
I just have a pretty airy cookie. Finally I recognize plenties of goat
beans and the thick bulbs of a unknown plant.

I see that I cannot go higher without daring too much.
Fortunately I
have hit on a small canyon and on its bottom can climb down
to the
treeline. As I reach the forrest I feel safe again and soon are on
the wide path from before. Some days later we find a guide book and
there
is to be read, that this hill is unmountable from this side. Now
climbers,
don't laugh at me.

The same story like the day before, couch-reservation and I
start for
a hike tour again. I want to go to Cala Fornells, then to the Cala
Monjo
(Monksbay) and then climb up to the Cap Andtaitxoll.
Up to the
end of the Cala Fornells Bay nothing is new. At a small peninsula there
is a curious building, a house looking like a ship even with a mast on
it.

At the hotel Coronado you reach a cliff path. There is a
lonesome villa
at the most beautiful spot of the bay. It looks uninhabited. At the
cliff
path we have nice flowers and there is the usual mediterranian view.
Near
the Cala Monjo we have another smaller bay which looks like a crater
surrounded
by vertical cliffs. The Cala Monjo area is private property owned by a
German who is said to be in prison. So the people consider the terrain
to be public again. At a wall you can read "Mallorca is SPAIN". In
earlier
times this bay was a refuge for pirates, smugglers and other uncertain
individuals. Nowadays the nudists have their paradise here. But today
there
is none! Unfortunately this place can be reached by motorized vehicles
meanwhile, so the remote mystic atmosphere has gone.

Now we enter a steep path up to Cap Andraitxoll and in the
burning sun
we get pretty sweaty. Later in the summer it may be impossible to
undertake
such a tour during the heat of the day. At the summit of the Cap there
is the rest of an old watchtower. These towers were needed in earlier
times
to watch for pirates or other enemies and to send signals to the
neighboured
towers, so this was the "hotline" of the island.
Today the tourists
like to visit these places. A gentleman sends his accompanying ladies
ahead,
brings himself and his camcorder into line and shoots towards the tower
and the ladies. "Cap Andraitxoll, the destination is reached" he
murmurs
into the microphone. Excuse me not to translate the Swabian dialect. I
stand in the background so long not to disturb the idyll.

The walk up here was so delightful that the route back through
the forrest
is less interesting. But I reach the pool "in time". I declare "Who was
not there, where I was, that was not there". But something has occurred
meanwhile at the hotel. An older lady was on her way to the toilet but
exploded ahead of schedule. But she found some help and since that time
she sits at the pool again with a cognac under her sun shade...

At the breakfast buffet a group of newcomers attract
attention. They
wear uniform sweatsuits with the inscription "Benthien, Roofs
and Facades".
We have our fun.

Even Heidi excepts, that not every day can be spent at the
side of the
pool. Let us head for a ride with the glass-bottom-boat. To be well
equipped
for this trip we first buy according hats, Heidi a black hat of straw
and
I a white baseball cap. While we are waiting for the boat, some further
studies come up. A lady declares something about the fishes: "There are
three kinds of them in the water, the small ones, the normal and the
great
ones". Aha! At the jetty some anglers try their luck but mostly only
catch
"the small ones". These are thrown to the numorus roaming cats. This is
real sport...

When the ship arrives a photographer is at work and we later
will get
a memory picture with hat and cap. The photo of a woman must be of
extraordinary
beauty: she wears a poison-green T-shirt, three purple palm trees are
painted
at the front under a pink coloured skye. And across this all the silver
letters MALLORCA.

The comments on board are given in four languages and so you
hear: "Links,
Santa Ponsa, to the left, Santa Ponsa, a gouche, Santa Ponsa, a la
izquierda,
Santa Ponsa!" In additions to the words left and right
the
conferencier masters a vocabulary from bay, memory, island,
taurus,
and rabbit - in 4 languages not to forget. An
outstanding
exemplar of an European citizen.

During the voyage you see the shoreline from a new
perspective. There
are jagged cliffs which you cannot see from the land side. Other parts
of the shore are spoiled by uncontrolled buildings even inside the
cliffs
like the nests of swallows. The greatest sensation are the Rabbit
Islands
where you can admire some rock like the Taurus. On these cliffs live
some
cormorants and the cameras click - so does mine. Finally we pass Camp
del
Mar, Cala Monjo and Cala Fornells.

At the end of the voyage the owner of the ship spends a gulp
out of
a certain drink container with a nozzle. You have to make long arms to
keep this nozzle far away from your mouth, when the stream comes out.
The
spender offers a towel to the unskilled victims. We better
resign.

Two hours have gone when we reach the land again. Wasn't a
nice trip...?

We now have arranged to make a tour in the early day and to
relay during
the rest. Today we go by bus via Andraitx to San Telmo.
In between
there is a village in a fertile valley named S' Arraco
and this
remembers to the famous Soller-area, but here everything is smaller and
more remote. Near San Telmo there is the jagged rocky island named Dragonera.
The highest point of this islnd with a rotted lighthouse is 300 m high.
At the open sea side the cliffs vertically fall into the depth. The
disadvantage
of the old lighthouse at the top was, that it often vanished in the
clouds,
and so they built a new one in a lower location. One can hire a boat to
get over but you should have enough time.

We have read something about a romantic bay named Cala
Basset.
For to reach there it should be sufficient to stay to the shore line.
But
first we only find those urbanisation roads, which seem to have been
built
completely in vain. There are so many houses, apartements and estates
to
sell (Se Vendre), you see a lot of rotted new built
shells, where
the owner has lost his financial power. At the end of those roads we
find
a path through small palm trees (Fächerpalme), the only native palm
of Mallorca.

Finally we reach the ruin of a watch tower named Punta
Nigra.
It is possible to climb into the tower some iron clamps and a narrow
spiral
staircase lead to a platform and there you have the best view of the
Cala
Basset or the Dragonera. We seem to be at the most western point of
Mallorca.
And we are happy, that at this spectacular place we meet no other human
beeings.

We return on the path back to San Telmo. We have to wait two
hours for
the next bus and stroll along and look at the shops. At a cafe we have
a cappuccino with a huge cap of cream. At this remote village there is
few traffic, so we enjoy the sun, the silence and the view to the
island
Dragonera and the blue sea.

At wednesday there is the weekly market at Andraitx and this
shall not
occur without us. When you leave the bus you can recognize, that many
busses
have come from other places to visit this market. We have not left the
parking site yet as the first dealer tries to praise his pearl jewelry.
And it is a mistake to show any interest for a Mallorca-pearl-chain.
The Mallorca-pearl is a pearl imitation as a characteristic creation of
this island. Our dealer wants 5000 Pesetas for a chain. We refuse so he
takes a sheet of paper and we shall write down the prize we want to
pay.
But we want to pay nothing and leave the yelling dealer behind. Some
stands
ahead the same chain costs 2000 Pesetas.

At first we leave the market to have a look at the cemetary of
which
we have read about in a guide. We must search for a while, but finally
we find the cemetary near - guess - the church. Because of the rocky
ground
and the shortage of space the corpses are buried overground. For this
there
are crypts built of stone which are located like the push trays of a
cupboard.
At the front side the crypt is closed by a heavy stone-panel, and there
you find the name, the dates and eventually a photo of the departed
persons.
One crypt is for two persons each. There are luxurious and simple
installations,
even some cheaper community crypts for a greater number of inhabitants.
That's all somewhat spine chilling and we return to the market.

It is interesting to watch the stands with food and
vegetables. You
see all sorts of spice, sausage and meat products, but our mouth
doesn't
gather much spittle if you look at a truncated bacon. The bacons are
air-dried
and hang around somewhere. At their lower end a small shell is placed
to
catch the dripping fat.

We buy a crock as souvernir and can drop the price by some
100s of pesetas.
Heidi still has the chain of Mallorca pearls in her mind and someone
offers
one for 2900 pesetas. "One thousand perhaps" Heidi murmurs. "OK, OK"
the
dealer shouts and we think that we have made a good bargain.

Another fascinating matter is a game of luck played with
hollow potatoes
and a little pellet. A gipsy woman hastily moves the potatoes around
and
sometimes the pellet appears for a tiny moment. Finally the playing
folks
have to specify the right potatoe which covers the pellet. We suppose
that
the winners are members of the team and the loosers are the silly
tourists.
We keep our purse deep in our pockets.

This is the last day and the silver merried couple will leave
tomorrow
as well. It happens that the weather is bad as usual at the very last
day
so we will miss to swim in the sea as we had planned. So let's the
women
go shopping and the male adventurers will have a walk to Calvia
which is described in that certain brochure.

But first I must look at the travel bureau to get the right
identification
labels for the baggage. But the bureau is not open earlier than 10
o'clock,
so I will have to return in the afternoon. With a bit rain we start the
hike tour and pass the Rancho Romana, a western
style horseman's
estate. We walk up and down and steadily turn somewhat to the left as
it
is described in the booklet. After a quarter of an hour we
reach
the outskirts of Paguera again and have manged to have walked a fine
circle.

We start for a new trial and succeed on the route to the
purification
plant. Our shoes stick from thick layers of clay under the bottom
meanwhile.
We neglect the sign Privado and pass the Finca
Tora which
lies on a hill like a fortification. Calvia with it's church is to be
seen
ahead and we cannot get lost again. In Calvia at the central place
there
is a remarkable panorama mosaic of ceramic. I am sorry that I have no
camera
with me. We have a coffee but then must hurry up for the bus leaves 5
minutes
too early this time.

In the afternoon Heidi stays to a plastic bag and a spoon,
which has
fallen
into her handbag during dinnertime the evening before. I remember a
garbage
deposit where I saw the copious branches of common plants. There we can
fill the bag without the risk to damage the nature of Mallorca.

Thereafter we have to rush to the travel agency. Several
people are
waiting who want to change reservations, prolongate, complain on
something
and so on. I dare to press forward and shout "Sorry I only want some
identification
labels signed by Sun World Tours!" "We have none,
you should order
them at the organizer". We are perplex and leave the place of promise.
But fortunately we have saved the labels from the outward journey. We
have
some trouble for it is to be seen that the male part of our team is
unable
to organize something correctly, that he forgets the main things of
life
and always trusts that everything is managed by others. And so on...

Back in the hotel I make sure that the old labels are at their
place.
After dinner we must swarm out for another plant-grabbing tour. There
is
a rotted disco named Bei Monika and there we find
some more flowers
and scions (Ableger). I wonder how we will pass the security control at
the airport tomorrow if we export beetles, spiders and scorpions.

We are very curious, if the announced bus at 5.25 pm will
really appear.
We shall wait at the back entrance of the hotel and stand there in the
dark for a while. I calculate about the use of a taxi to the airport.
But
then after ten minutes delay the bus comes along and picks us up in
spite
of the strange identification labels.

In the airport we have a final performance. There are such
certain cakes,
which everybody seems to take with him before he leaves this
island.
Numerous people run around carrying cartons big like a cartwheel. Such
a cake costs about 1000 pesetas. We only have some coins yet. So we
enter
an exchange-counter to change 20 DM. The clerk throws some coins on to
the desk - we get 800 pesetas, the other 500 are purchased as exchange
fee. So with our rest of 100 pesatas we now own 900 and still cannot
buy
a cake.

Because the exchange counter and the cake shop are at the
opposite sides
of the hall we may have crossed it 4 times or more. Now we
head for
the cake shop determined to beat down the price of the cake to 900
pesetas.
But calm down, there is another cake, a smaller one for just 900
pesetas
and that's it.

So this was our first touristic journey by flight, we think
somewhat
funny sometimes.